


I Can Be Your John Cusack

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Series: Harringrove Week of Love 2020 [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, Future Idiots in Love, Harringrove Week of Love 2020, HarringroveWeekofLove Day 4, Humour, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Secret Admirer, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22709989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: "They're leaving you flowers," Lucas points out, not for the first time, as if Steve doesn't have functional eyes. And a working nose. Really, it's pre-dried potpourri all over his car, you can't miss it.(Or, Steve doesn't really believe he's going to get murdered by means of a rose bouquet, but you never know. This is Hawkins, after all.)(Written for Harringrove Week of Love Day 4: Secret Admirer.)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Harringrove Week of Love 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629670
Comments: 8
Kudos: 141
Collections: Harringrove Week of Love





	I Can Be Your John Cusack

**Author's Note:**

> It's still the thirteenth somewhere, right?!?
> 
> Title from "Honorable Mention" by Fall Out Boy.

Steve's not a paranoid guy.

That being said, this is definitely a trap. Like, definitely _somehow_ a trap—probably. He's pretty sure.

"This is a trap," he states, proud to have figured it out. No one acknowledges his brilliance, which is mildly disappointing and kind of rude to be perfectly honest.

It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you, right?

Dustin snorts, further rubbing it in.

"My dude," he starts, but Steve's heard it all before.

The bottom line is that someone is, without a shadow of a doubt, desecrating the sanctity of his Beamer to—something. Unclear what precisely, but this is Hawkins, hence it must be something nefarious. Never mind said desecration comes in the form of rose petals scattered all over his windshield at regular intervals.

"They're leaving you flowers," Lucas points out, not for the first time, as if Steve doesn't have functional eyes. And a working nose. Really, it's pre-dried potpourri all over his car, you can't miss it.

What Steve's definitely got is about twenty-five percent of Lucas's attention at best, his eyes focused on an illustration of a very big dude brandishing an even bigger sword Steve can only see upside down from his position opposite him. It's the sort of half-assed reaction he should have been expecting, this one's on him, although this _is_ Hawkins they're talking about here. A little bit of belief and/or support would not go amiss in his opinion.

He sits at his kitchen table looking at their faces. The boys keep changing around—one would stare at Steve while the other gazes back down at the latest hardback D&D book, an old alchemy type dude staring up from the cover. Mike would just roll his eyes while Will would not move his from the page if they were there, so he's already in the best scenario ever where The Party is concerned. Which is mildly underwhelming to be sure.

It's Dustin's turn now, but he halts, mouth gaping, Steve's wordlessly raised palm silencing him. Judging by his pinched expression, he seems to actually be feeling sort of guilty for not taking Steve more seriously in favour of another addition to their games. This time, when he lowers his eyes, it's only partly to look back at the pages of new characters and whatever else this new edition brings.

Head cocked, Lucas sighs long-sufferingly, then says, "You know who it is." Then rolls his eyes one final time before returning to flipping through his book.

"No, I don't," he says without taking a breath, and now he's breathless for no reason. He inhales and it gets stuck in his throat for a long moment. He stands up to emphasise how much he's all in on not knowing shit, though maybe there are better ways of making his point.

OK, he's had enough. Besides, this conversation is obviously going nowhere.

Steve puts his arms through the sleeves of his coat and, sniffing, adjusts the cuffs and collar.

"Yeah, you little assholes are no help." He watches Dustin shrug. "If I get murdered, you'll be sorry then." He narrows his eyes for a second. "Now get out of my house, dipshits."

He only leaves first because he enjoys a good dramatic walking out.

*

OK, this is definitely getting ridiculous. But, also, Steve should not be surprised.

Although Lucas being right is a bad idea in general—guy enjoys saying _I told you so_ way too much—he is, in this isolated and very specific situation, um, kind of very right. As in, Steve has just stumbled into a scene where Billy Hargrove is outside his house placing the saddest bouquet of red roses onto the Beamer's front hood with the solemnity of a dude delivering flowers at a grave. Which doesn't make sense, _unless_ he's about to murder Steve. And won't Lucas and Dustin feel bad about him _then_.

"Now I know you've got the wrong car," Steve says by way of a greeting, feet carrying him closer to where Hargrove is standing.

Turning around, Hargrove looks vaguely defiant. As if he's got the right to be pissy here. "King Steve not allowing his royal subjects to touch his royal steed?" His hip is cocked obnoxiously, and Steve wants to deck him a little bit on principle.

"Cut the shit."

"Hmm."

"You got something to say?"

Hargrove looks him up and down, then says, "What do you think?"

Steve frowns. "You can't be serious." He must be dreaming, though those kinds of dreams usually end with him changing the sheets in the morning.

Because Hargrove is a dick, he folds his arms over his chest and stares.

And because Steve is obviously a dumbass, he says, "Fine. But you're buying me the cheesy fries." He pauses. "And a milkshake. I like strawberry."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I have a [tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/). And no self-control.


End file.
